Inside 67: Shadow over Innside

[Slii Arhem]

[A Rambling Cart, Since Rolled Into Town]

Someone else is attracted by the call! That someone is an 11-year old girl with German and Swedish facial features, fox ears where elf ones would be and a bushy tail, fur a dark blue-gray. She's lean and quite cute, but just by looking, one would get the impression she was a ruffian. They'd be quite right on that note.

The tomboyish girl is dressed in a plain pink shirt and a black skirt on top of black gym shorts. Her blue eyes gleam with curiosity as she wanders away from the front of her orphanage, attracted by the promise of tales to tell. She likes stories.

Brunhilde Stendhal Fuchs stops quickly once she's at the shop proper, her tail flicking about and her ears perked up to show her fascination as she browses the wares, particularly the musical instrument section. "Guten tag, Herr Fezziro." She says, greeting the proprietor, then starting to sing a tune. The ruffian has a strong vocal talent, as it turns out.

Rambling - Brunhilde

Fezziro tips his hat to the young customer, the beak of his mask dipping low in a respectful nod, "Good evening young Mistress. You may be able to sing for your supper, but I usually take my payment in cash. But come, come. What can I interest you in first this chill winter day? A nice scarf perhaps, or something to accompany your musical talent?"

[A Rambling Store]

”Definitely, absolutely nothing involving faeries. I should probably stay away from horse stuff too.” he says, glancing at what looks like a riding crop.
He wonders if there’s any video game things around.
”Don’t suppose you have anything dragon related?” he says, clearly smiling at his own joke, with the face a teenager gets when he’s seen a very pretty girl recently.

Rambling - Grant

"Ah the draconic. The height of cool among men ranging from thirteen to nineteen, but a perennial favorite besides. Whereas pixies and horses are generally seen as unmanly, yes?" There's a heavy impression of a wink somewhere behind those thick goggles built into the mask, the implication built into the shopkeeper's tone.

"I do have a few authentic dragon teeth, but I doubt you want to sew an army of skeletal warriors with the ground frosted over still. They'd come out of the ground with their skulls chattering and ribs rattling. What about this?" He unstraps a statuette from the counter. It's dark, cut from onyx or some other midnight stone. Small veins of lighter minerals highlight the carving, which is a bit crude but incorporates the rock's natural beauty wonderfully. A lack of skill in the artist's hands was made up for by a keen eye and careful planning.

"No previous owner, just the craftsman who made it. Was requested by a dowager duchess and then rejected after completion. But it sings in the dark, the night playing on its surface like fingers on a harp's string." A small cloth bag is produced, and the statue swiftly dumped inside. Fezziro offers the bag to Grant eagerly, "Put it to your ear and listen."

[Deathkeeper]

[Rambling- Grant]

Grant shakes his head.
”Horses are super manly. But I need to keep away from that kind of mojo. I don’t want hooves again.” he says, teasing the man with a story he doesn’t elaborate on.
Still, as instructed, he takes the bag and holds it up to his ear.

[Slii Arhem]

[Rambling- Grant]

Grant shakes his head.
”Horses are super manly. But I need to keep away from that kind of mojo. I don’t want hooves again.” he says, teasing the man with a story he doesn’t elaborate on.
Still, as instructed, he takes the bag and holds it up to his ear.

Rambling - Grant

From the bag's mouth, the sweetest, saddest tune drifts up to Grant's ear. Beginning as a soft susurrus and rising just to the point of audibility, this dragon's cries speak of loneliness, missed opportunities, and unfulfilled purpose in ways that make the heart of any living creature ache. The song transcends language and origin, coming from no instrument or voice Grant has ever heard before, but after only a few moments of listening to the Serenade of Regret, he can likely feel its effects on him. His own troubles, far from feeling belittled by the weight of this statue's woes, may begin to harmonize and empathize with them. and in sharing and knowing that another can feel and understand what he's gone through at the worst, lowest point of his life, his heart begins to ease as shared troubles divide themselves between him and the statue. Its purring, lilting, full-throated voice strips away the sharp edges of some lingering hurts he may not have been consciously aware of, leaving him at least somewhat at peace with his life's sadness.

"It's even stronger in full night, especially when the moon is new." Fezziro says softly, perhaps jolting Grant out of a fugue state, "Tends to take people that way the first time."

[Cola]

Spoiler

Show

Brun raises up a hand. "Nein, wait. I'll testify to your story whether or not you train me. But, I never said train me in mafia job, you assumed it's what I meant. Which proves to me you're mob, und not a low ranker."

At this point, however, the elf shakes himself awake, then looks around at the men carrying him, before Brun stops them. He quickly kicks at the face of the man carrying his legs, trying to get down. "Stay out of this and let us sell her already!" He blurts out.

"See? Töte ihn! KILL HIM!" She uses her yells as a medium to channel her vibro powers, hoping to stun the three men into vertigo. If this succeeds, she'll scramble for the abandoned gun and won't hesitate to put one in the elf's head if not stopped. Hopefully, for her eventual sake, she isn't.

[the Furry Mob]

There's no sympathy for Brun to be seen in Smorre's face. He simply remains with his hands raised. Once a police siren can be heard less than a minute after the killing shot was taken, and very close by at that, he suspects that a police presence so responsive and close by may not be coincidence...

The law's patrol car pulls up right next to the scene, sirens still blaring. Neither Smorre nor Alzim make any signs of resistance, they simply sit there, passively, hands still in the air. The latter of them may not even be able to do much more than that in his current state of mind. Neither of them has touched the murder weapon after all, and Smorre's own pistol has a different ammunition type and he has a concealed carry permit.

[Purple Eagle]

[the Furry Mob]

While already hoisting the unconscious elf with the help of his employee, Smorre snaps back at her astute observation. "Well wwwhat else could you have meant? You You've you've been going o-on about the mob all this t-t-time. As if yyyou suddenly want to learn h-how to make smorrebrod aafter almmmost killing someone?" Suddenly, a shoe hits his face, since he was carrying the legs of the elf and didn't pay enough attention. Smorre immediately is fully ready to give that incompetemt clown a taste of fist, but it doesn't come that far. Instead, Brun's shouts deafen his ears, seemingly reverb inside his skull and bones, and shake the gravity-sensing vestibular system in his inner ear. The cat man lets go of the elf and falls over onto the pavement, as do Alzim and the elf himself. Before any of them can get up again, a gunshot rings, and the elven thug is looking a bit scatterbrained.

Every head on the street is turned towards the scene and heads appear in windows. Although this is not a busy place at all, it's still a city. At least 20 pairs of eyes are on the murder scene, on Smorre, on Alzim, and on Brun holding the gun. The police is called multiple times within the next 20 seconds. There surely are several phone videos and pictures being made right now. Alzim, who is so unfortunate as to have what's left of the elf's head lying in his lap, just starts to scream and rapidly back off. Poor guy is gonna have nightmares of this event for months to come, not to mention the general trauma. Smorre simply stays sitting there, staring back and forth between the elf and Brun. His nerves are in no condition to get a word out, so much overcome with shock is he. Instead he raises his hands above his head, surrendering to the girl. Not because he thinks she'd actually shoot him too, but as display for the crowd.

Now it's on. Brun straight-up murdered someone in a fit of violence, in one of Smorre's restaurants. The police will be all over this case, and he sure won't side with Brun any more. Sociopath killers don't get any respect or mercy from him.

[The Furry Mob]

Brun sees herself holding a gun, her most immediate dangerous threat eliminated in a shower of brains. She did it! She killed him! She's glad she's done it, realizing for the first time that there will be consequences, but seeing any of them better than what could have befallen her. She didn't mean to do it, however, but when he woke up, she panicked.

The sound of Smorre's clothes rustling as he raises his hands jolts her back to reality, and she turns to see his action. That, plus Alzim's screams, make the girl drop the gun and raise her own hands, starting to defend herself. "He works for a former kollege of my Vati who deals in sk- I mean slaving and they became feinde I mean enemies before he died and they already tried to kidnap me when my Vati was alive! If I didn't do it then someone else would have, it was notwehr ah ummm I mean self-defense! I might not like how you're trying to shelter me but I would never hurt you Herr Smorre!" She gets out in one breath, realizing she's crying. Post first-kill reaction, something she doesn't realize, so she stops to wonder in confusion just why she's crying, wiping her eyes in some shock.

The sound of sirens can already be heard in the distance. In it are a human cop and an orcish one with purple skin, both dressed in sharp navy blue police uniform, sunglasses hiding their eyes. When the call comes in on the intercom, the orc hurries to answer the call, ensuring that command knows they're on the case and will call for backup if needed. Having police in your pocket means you can get them to watch the recently orphaned child of one of your most resourceful underbosses without her knowledge, even more so when the girl is on her way to following in her father's footsteps despite the inherent danger. A clusterfunk of this scale was inevitable, luckily they're there to clean up the mess.

Rambling - Brunhilde

Fezziro tips his hat to the young customer, the beak of his mask dipping low in a respectful nod, "Good evening young Mistress. You may be able to sing for your supper, but I usually take my payment in cash. But come, come. What can I interest you in first this chill winter day? A nice scarf perhaps, or something to accompany your musical talent?"[/COLOR]

[Rambling - Brun]

Normally such a statement would offend Brun, but the jolly way in which it's said, coupled with her feeling in a good mood this evening, elicits a giggle from her instead. The tomboy seems to take a shine to the items coloured pink. That colour has always been calming to the young girl, as she'll readily tell anyone who tries to imply she likes pink because she's a girl. Heck, she got that trait from her father, who wasn't afraid of his love for the colour pink!

Brun shakes her head a little to clear the intruding thoughts, and turns to look up at Fezziro. "Ja, music stuff, like a pretty pink flute."

[Slii Arhem]

[The Furry Mob]

Brun sees herself holding a gun, her most immediate dangerous threat eliminated in a shower of brains. She did it! She killed him! She's glad she's done it, realizing for the first time that there will be consequences, but seeing any of them better than what could have befallen her. She didn't mean to do it, however, but when he woke up, she panicked.

The sound of Smorre's clothes rustling as he raises his hands jolts her back to reality, and she turns to see his action. That, plus Alzim's screams, make the girl drop the gun and raise her own hands, starting to defend herself. "He works for a former kollege of my Vati who deals in sk- I mean slaving and they became feinde I mean enemies before he died and they already tried to kidnap me when my Vati was alive! If I didn't do it then someone else would have, it was notwehr ah ummm I mean self-defense! I might not like how you're trying to shelter me but I would never hurt you Herr Smorre!" She gets out in one breath, realizing she's crying. Post first-kill reaction, something she doesn't realize, so she stops to wonder in confusion just why she's crying, wiping her eyes in some shock.

The sound of sirens can already be heard in the distance. In it are a human cop and an orcish one with purple skin, both dressed in sharp navy blue police uniform, sunglasses hiding their eyes. When the call comes in on the intercom, the orc hurries to answer the call, ensuring that command knows they're on the case and will call for backup if needed. Having police in your pocket means you can get them to watch the recently orphaned child of one of your most resourceful underbosses without her knowledge, even more so when the girl is on her way to following in her father's footsteps despite the inherent danger. A clusterfunk of this scale was inevitable, luckily they're there to clean up the mess.



[Rambling - Brun]

Normally such a statement would offend Brun, but the jolly way in which it's said, coupled with her feeling in a good mood this evening, elicits a giggle from her instead. The tomboy seems to take a shine to the items coloured pink. That colour has always been calming to the young girl, as she'll readily tell anyone who tries to imply she likes pink because she's a girl. Heck, she got that trait from her father, who wasn't afraid of his love for the colour pink!

Brun shakes her head a little to clear the intruding thoughts, and turns to look up at Fezziro. "Ja, music stuff, like a pretty pink flute."

Rambling - Brun

"Hmm! Well, no pink flutes, though a few of my bells are pink. But there is something special for someone looking to color their music well." He wiggles his fingers as he searches out the correct item, snapping it up quickly. It's a small, faux-leather case with two brass clasps. Opening it, Fezziro reveals a bright silver flute in two parts, the dusk light playing off its surface and giving it a salmon hue.

"This belonged to an artist who could see sounds. She was famed for painting what she heard with her eyes closed, creating rainbows out of orchestras. This was her first flute, bought for her when she was still a child, perhaps no older than you are now." He fits the pieces carefully together and raises the flute up under the beak of his mask as if to play. And then, astonishingly, he does. Whether some magic of the mask or the flute itself, he blows across it through the thick leather and brings forth a sharp E that turns the air vibrant yellow with colored lights. Holding the note, he shifts downwards with care and the hue shifts as well, deepening into a rosy pink that dances and swirls merrily.

He stops, letting the lights and tones fade, "Wonderful to learn on or perform with, though I cannot play a tune myself. Your audience will see the intent of your music painted on the sky."

[Deathkeeper]

[Rambling Shop- Grant]

Grant gives the man a sad smile as he recovers.
"Well, I think I know someone who would do good hearing this." he says, staring off into the distance. "But what would you ask for it?" There's no way Grant can afford something like this. Something so nice.

[Slii Arhem]

[Rambling Shop- Grant]

Grant gives the man a sad smile as he recovers.
"Well, I think I know someone who would do good hearing this." he says, staring off into the distance. "But what would you ask for it?" There's no way Grant can afford something like this. Something so nice.

Rambling Shop - Grant

Fezziro looks at the tag where the statue was on the counter, then reaches up under the bottom edge of his mask to scratch his chin. Giving Grant what is probably a knowing look, he slowly responds, "For you? Probably not more than..." When he names his price it is indeed more than Grant might be able to easily afford. But not by as much as he'd have thought...

"And we do accept trade ins. Any antiques or collectibles you might have with a good story behind them will certainly sweeten the pot, and I'd be inclined to let it go for a little less. Or there are other things I have for sale, less expensive, but I assure you no less worthwhile.

[UncleWolf]

Golden Flock Orphanage

"But I'm not living." Mo points out. It seemed difficult to get people to understand that. She steps out of the light, but doesn't approach the children or the man yet. "So, what is it that you're seeking? I don't think you're going to be able to get out of here as-is." She asks the man, moving clockwise around the room slowly to try and get to his side.

Rambling Shop

Behind the others, a small 4ft tall figure stands with one arm holding a toolbelt to her chest. The hood of her poncho is pulled up and she seems to be humming patiently. She's content to wait for the taller folk to be done with the shopkeeper, but she's at least wanting to stake out her claim in line.

[Purple Eagle]

Rambling - Brun

"Hmm! Well, no pink flutes, though a few of my bells are pink. But there is something special for someone looking to color their music well." He wiggles his fingers as he searches out the correct item, snapping it up quickly. It's a small, faux-leather case with two brass clasps. Opening it, Fezziro reveals a bright silver flute in two parts, the dusk light playing off its surface and giving it a salmon hue.

"This belonged to an artist who could see sounds. She was famed for painting what she heard with her eyes closed, creating rainbows out of orchestras. This was her first flute, bought for her when she was still a child, perhaps no older than you are now." He fits the pieces carefully together and raises the flute up under the beak of his mask as if to play. And then, astonishingly, he does. Whether some magic of the mask or the flute itself, he blows across it through the thick leather and brings forth a sharp E that turns the air vibrant yellow with colored lights. Holding the note, he shifts downwards with care and the hue shifts as well, deepening into a rosy pink that dances and swirls merrily.

He stops, letting the lights and tones fade, "Wonderful to learn on or perform with, though I cannot play a tune myself. Your audience will see the intent of your music painted on the sky."

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun's mild disappointment at the first revelation is made up for by the way he says 'color their music'. You could definitely color her interested at that moment, and her head and ears lean forward in his direction, anticipating whatever he'll pull out. This is the Nexus, people of his sort come around sometimes to ply their trade, and it's always fun to browse. This time, though, she's gotten money from running errands and being a bouncer of sorts to the orphans her age group, so she's saved enough to buy one item.

Good thing, too, any longer and she might have shaved a bit of it off to buy anything that isn't orphanage food, and lots of bits turn into one big chunk of your money gone.

Brun clasps her hands and smiles as the flute is produced. "It's so pretty!" She exclaims, watching intently as she anticipates a demonstration. She isn't disappointed, and at the end of that simple demonstration, her mind brims with the possibilities of what her skilled self could do. "Cann I bitte play with it a little bit? How much? Do you have one that turns into a sword?" She doesn't hold back her torrent of questions, even as she stretches her hand to try out the flute.

[Slii Arhem]

Rambling Shop

Behind the others, a small 4ft tall figure stands with one arm holding a toolbelt to her chest. The hood of her poncho is pulled up and she seems to be humming patiently. She's content to wait for the taller folk to be done with the shopkeeper, but she's at least wanting to stake out her claim in line.

Rambling Shop - Mysterious Hooded Gentlebeing

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun's mild disappointment at the first revelation is made up for by the way he says 'color their music'. You could definitely color her interested at that moment, and her head and ears lean forward in his direction, anticipating whatever he'll pull out. This is the Nexus, people of his sort come around sometimes to ply their trade, and it's always fun to browse. This time, though, she's gotten money from running errands and being a bouncer of sorts to the orphans her age group, so she's saved enough to buy one item.

Good thing, too, any longer and she might have shaved a bit of it off to buy anything that isn't orphanage food, and lots of bits turn into one big chunk of your money gone.

Brun clasps her hands and smiles as the flute is produced. "It's so pretty!" She exclaims, watching intently as she anticipates a demonstration. She isn't disappointed, and at the end of that simple demonstration, her mind brims with the possibilities of what her skilled self could do. "Cann I bitte play with it a little bit? How much? Do you have one that turns into a sword?" She doesn't hold back her torrent of questions, even as she stretches her hand to try out the flute.

Rambling - Brun

The shopkeeper stiffly and precisely taps the sign next to his cash box that says No Weapons Bought, Sold, or Worked On. but then is all cheerful waves again afterwards, "I'm very sorry but no. I sometimes have a small number of edged tools, but this day I don't have so much as a knife in my little stall. My wares are special, valued customer. Using them for violence can taint their stories and make them very difficult to handle." Fezziro's hand moves beneath the stall counter, but just rests there for now as he reaches forward with his other arm to offer Brun the flute so she can try it out. Each note has its own particular shade, and if she plays it she'll find that songs played skillfully on it can even bring out vague scenes, suggestions of light and shade that might be the stories the songs were meant to tell. Perhaps a perfect musician, if one could exist, playing a masterpiece could bring to life its perfection in sight and sound combined. Holding the flute promises this and more to the musical soul.

[Nova_Eclipse]

[The Docks]

Quin takes up position with Calm and gets ready to lift and throw the cart. His physical strength might be quite large, but it might not be enough by himself, depending on how big the cart is and how heavy it might be.

[Purple Eagle]

Rambling - Brun

The shopkeeper stiffly and precisely taps the sign next to his cash box that says No Weapons Bought, Sold, or Worked On. but then is all cheerful waves again afterwards, "I'm very sorry but no. I sometimes have a small number of edged tools, but this day I don't have so much as a knife in my little stall. My wares are special, valued customer. Using them for violence can taint their stories and make them very difficult to handle." Fezziro's hand moves beneath the stall counter, but just rests there for now as he reaches forward with his other arm to offer Brun the flute so she can try it out. Each note has its own particular shade, and if she plays it she'll find that songs played skillfully on it can even bring out vague scenes, suggestions of light and shade that might be the stories the songs were meant to tell. Perhaps a perfect musician, if one could exist, playing a masterpiece could bring to life its perfection in sight and sound combined. Holding the flute promises this and more to the musical soul.

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun's disappointed at the man's revelation of no weapons sold, but understands as he explains why. At least, she thinks she does, she figures he doesn't want to deal with errant weapons. No matter, there are probably others like him around that she'll find in the future.

Right now, though, she's offered the flute, and she ever so eagerly grabs it from his hands, placing the mouthpiece to her lips after taking a huge drag of air. First, she tries all the notes to ascertain their colours. Keeping that in mind, she begins to play a melody in a key that would make listeners think of traveling the world, trying to get the colours to depict an adventurer and his travels as close as she can. As flute players go, she's quite proficient.

After about a minute, she'll stop playing and hug the flute to her chest. "Ja, I'll buy it! How much? I can afford one thing, can I get first-timer's bonus?" You never know until you ask, sometimes.

[Slii Arhem]

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun's disappointed at the man's revelation of no weapons sold, but understands as he explains why. At least, she thinks she does, she figures he doesn't want to deal with errant weapons. No matter, there are probably others like him around that she'll find in the future.

Right now, though, she's offered the flute, and she ever so eagerly grabs it from his hands, placing the mouthpiece to her lips after taking a huge drag of air. First, she tries all the notes to ascertain their colours. Keeping that in mind, she begins to play a melody in a key that would make listeners think of traveling the world, trying to get the colours to depict an adventurer and his travels as close as she can. As flute players go, she's quite proficient.

After about a minute, she'll stop playing and hug the flute to her chest. "Ja, I'll buy it! How much? I can afford one thing, can I get first-timer's bonus?" You never know until you ask, sometimes.

Rambling - Brun

The quoted price is reasonable, and depending on Brun's budget she might still have enough for a snack afterwards. If she's still inclined to haggle him down, he'll show her the real price tag and comment, "That's with the first time buyer's discount, and I'll throw in the case for free and a card to remind you of the story." If she consents, he'll take back the flute to wrap it up for her, securing it tightly in the case and making sure it won't get damaged or dinged before he completes the sale.

"But there is one more thing I tell all my new customers before I make a sale. It's one last condition. Are you willing to hear it?"

[Purple Eagle]

[Rambling - Brun]

While the quoted price indeed is enough for her to buy a snack with the change, she still haggles him down, hoping to save as much money as possible. However, when he throws in the case and card, she consents, paying and waiting with bated breath as her purchase is packed. Oh, how she's going to wow her audience! And beat the ever living crap out of anyone that takes it without permission.

But the salesman seems anti-violence, so there's no need to bring that up!

Her anticipation is soured somewhat by there being a last condition before a sale, but Fezziro's been real nice and jolly so far, so the foxgirl relents. "Ja, okay, lemme hear it." She says, her ears leaning forward to indicate her attention.

[Slii Arhem]

[Rambling - Brun]

While the quoted price indeed is enough for her to buy a snack with the change, she still haggles him down, hoping to save as much money as possible. However, when he throws in the case and card, she consents, paying and waiting with bated breath as her purchase is packed. Oh, how she's going to wow her audience! And beat the ever living crap out of anyone that takes it without permission.

But the salesman seems anti-violence, so there's no need to bring that up!

Her anticipation is soured somewhat by there being a last condition before a sale, but Fezziro's been real nice and jolly so far, so the foxgirl relents. "Ja, okay, lemme hear it." She says, her ears leaning forward to indicate her attention.

Rambling - Brun

Fezziro begins writing up a receipt by hand as he talks neat curly writing including his name, phone number, and other contact details along with the price, date, time, and a space for her to sign all included, "As I said, my wares are special. If they are treated poorly or neglected, they could become troublesome. It depends on a lot of things, but I like to ensure my clients are satisfied and my wares well cared for. If you don't want or need what I'm selling you anymore, I only ask that you contact me and give me the chance to buy it back for a reasonable price, dependent on the wear it's been through since selling it. If you plan to pass it on to another either by resale or as an heirloom or gift, please make sure they're made aware of its story, the reasons behind its powers, and that they can contact me if it gives them trouble as long as I'm still alive." He extends his hand with the receipt. It's clear that signing this and agreeing to his condition is part of getting her new flute. No consent, no sale. It's almost as if she's adopting a puppy or something considering how solemnly he treats it at this point.

[Deathkeeper]

Rambling- Grant

Grant gives the statuette one more look. He’s sure it would help Rey, but...
”Well, I’ll look at your other things, if you’d like to show me. And I’ll see if I can think of something I might have at home.” he suggests, casting his gaze around the shop again.

[Purple Eagle]

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun listens attentively, paying much more attention when told they could become troublesome under the right, or rather, 'wrong' circumstances. She doesn't want anything happening to her newest weapon. Good thing about the ability to manipulate sonic vibrations is the ability to utilize sound for a variety of purposes.

She quickly shakes her head when the thought of her not needing it again comes up, for she cannot fathom why she would ever not need this, but listens anyway. "Nein, I'll keep it for as long as I can, Herr Fezziro, but I'll keep it in mind." Seeing the receipt, she finally realizes that what she's agreeing to is quite serious, but her desire to get the flute trumps any inconveniences, and so she nods.

"Ok." Her signature is a bit more elegant than one would expect, and once that's done, she cradles the box containing her new purchase in her hands. "I don't plan to give anyone, this is for me. You might not be able to tell because animal ohrs, but I'm an elfe. I'll live really long." No matter how many people she has to beat down to extend her life. "If I have children, or adopt, I'll read the quit... ah, receipt."

[Chaotic Bob]

Spoiler: Orphanage Spoils

Show

[Golden Flock Orphanage]

Ithuriel grits her teeth and takes a deep, shuddering breath as she quietly adjusts her comms setting to filter through to Red Velvet only, speaking out loud enough for Mo to hear her too. "So, turns out the kid the civilian rescued was apparently a demigod of death. Which would have been nice to know before I tried to shunt her to safety, because there was a ritual going on in the basement to, uh, steal her divinity I guess. Seems my actions brought the ritual to its conclusion prematurely, which I guess nobody was really expecting." She's talking quickly, she doesn't have time to spare talking this through properly. Hopefully her intuition is at least vaguely on the mark here. She does still make the time to pause, sigh and briefly hold a hand to her head as she surveys the scene. "Red, it's a mess down here. I don't want to call you away from saving other civilians, but we need you down here fast."

Death's cold embrace is a sadly familiar feeling for Ithuriel. Both something she's experienced in the act of dying before as well as that same cold emptiness that haunted her every day of her depressing parody of life as a vampire. Nothing ever made it go away, that horrible reminder that she was just a pretender at life for so long. But when you're so used to something, it becomes easier to resist it. "Stay here too long and you'll die." She states directly to Mo, the comms off once more. "And if those bubbles burst, all those children will be dead in an instant. I don't know what to suggest here, but try and stay in my light."

Tired wings raise up as the angel forces her aura to flare up, a small bubble of warming golden light in the grey sea of death. And then she starts walking towards the child at the centre of it all, calling out to him, her voice resonating in the air as a chorus of Ithuriels sing out in a sweet, comforting melody around her words, "Hush now, little one. Don't be afraid. I'll keep you safe. I won't let him hurt you or your friends any more. But I need you to let go of that power he's put inside of you. Can you do that for me?"

[Golden Flock Orphanage]

"A sound plan, darling, we'll take our leave, shall we?" Red replies to the boy with a wane smile. She kneels down on the floor, allowing the boy to climb onto her back.

She's pretty much the perfect size for it, too. What child doesn't enjoy pony rides?

Once he has climbed aboard, Red will begin heading back toward that lovely hole she made in the floor. Thankfully she's quite agile and sure-footed. It'll be a bumpy ride when she hops down, finding hoof-holds in places that have no business holding her weight, but down she goes all the same. She moves in a quick canter toward the door, glad to get at least one of the little ones out of this death-trap.

Right as she's crossing the threshold the message comes over her comes.

The unicorn's eyes narrow slightly, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Lovely. I'll be there shortly," she replies to her commander before turning her attention to one of the officers outside. "See to him. Testing first, though I believe he's clean. The poor dear has been hiding under a bed in abject terror for Princess knows how long."

Once the boy is taken off her back, she'll turn and begin charging toward the basement! Well endowed with both strength and agility, it shouldn't be that long of a trip.

"I'm inbound now."

Golden Flock Orphanage

"But I'm not living." Mo points out. It seemed difficult to get people to understand that. She steps out of the light, but doesn't approach the children or the man yet. "So, what is it that you're seeking? I don't think you're going to be able to get out of here as-is." She asks the man, moving clockwise around the room slowly to try and get to his side.

[Golden Flock Orphanage]

The little rescued boy doesn't speak terribly much for the duration of his "pony ride to freedom", just holds on and does a rather admirable job of trying not to cry.
He mostly succeeds.

When delivered to one of the Intersection officers however, there is some more fear at the prospect of his rescuer leaving so soon.
Not something particularly difficult to overcome, in the face of Red trying to move away quickly...but he would like to know that she's going to actually come back and he really doesn't want her to get eaten like the other adults.
As for testing him? He is, in fact, not a horrible evil little monster. No more than little children have the natural tendency to be capable of, anyway.

Back in the basement, with bubbles and death...
Mo and Ithuriel are both engaging conversation tactics.

While Ithuriel's angelic light doesn't really seem to be stopping the rampant energy from radiating out of the boy, it does serve to make the surrounding area less terrible. Livelier.
The sparks flickering over the protective bubbles of nearby children cease and become tranquil once more.
Alongside this is another loud pained cry from the boy and a brief second of increased energy output before it coils back inwards.
"I CAN'T!"
There's a distinct desperation there, beneath the unnaturally booming voice, the terror of being asked to do something you fundamentally feel you can't. Or shouldn't.

Meanwhile, over on Mo's side:
The man takes a moment to actually respond to her, having to deal with that energy pulse triggered a moment ago to keep his bubbles active.
Once that calms down a bit, he actually spares a glance her way and makes a passing attempt to not seem so desperate himself.
"The boy is going to kill untold numbers of people here, he is far too young for the power he holds. I was trying to save everyone before this happened.

At some point soon, Red will presumably be approaching the boiler room at least.
In time to hear the shuffling, wet noises of things moving slowly in the other rooms unexplored.

[Slii Arhem]

Rambling- Grant

Grant gives the statuette one more look. He’s sure it would help Rey, but...
”Well, I’ll look at your other things, if you’d like to show me. And I’ll see if I can think of something I might have at home.” he suggests, casting his gaze around the shop again.

Rambling - Grant

"I can always reserve it for you until I leave for another town, if you need time to get the money together or find some things to trade. But here's something in a similar vein." He takes back the bag with the statue and sets it down on the counter, unshipping a small device of stiff wires, string, and a coin with a hole in the middle. It's tightly wrapped in a layer of plastic to keep it all together, and clearly will require a little bit of assembly after purchase.

"I only have one of these currently, because the material is hard to find reliably and they sell very well. It's a genuine hypnotist's coin on a string. The string is held up by two wires, and when twisted so that it will spin, the person who spun it will fall instantly into restful sleep once the spinning is done no matter where they are. Unless woken up, they'll sleep for a length of time based on how much the string is wound." He flips around the package and shows Grant the back, there's a card outlining the number of twists needed.

"It's a very simple story, but also a very simple magic. It just happens to be quite useful for anyone who has trouble sleeping."

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun listens attentively, paying much more attention when told they could become troublesome under the right, or rather, 'wrong' circumstances. She doesn't want anything happening to her newest weapon. Good thing about the ability to manipulate sonic vibrations is the ability to utilize sound for a variety of purposes.

She quickly shakes her head when the thought of her not needing it again comes up, for she cannot fathom why she would ever not need this, but listens anyway. "Nein, I'll keep it for as long as I can, Herr Fezziro, but I'll keep it in mind." Seeing the receipt, she finally realizes that what she's agreeing to is quite serious, but her desire to get the flute trumps any inconveniences, and so she nods.

"Ok." Her signature is a bit more elegant than one would expect, and once that's done, she cradles the box containing her new purchase in her hands. "I don't plan to give anyone, this is for me. You might not be able to tell because animal ohrs, but I'm an elfe. I'll live really long." No matter how many people she has to beat down to extend her life. "If I have children, or adopt, I'll read the quit... ah, receipt."

Rambling - Brun

"Then our transaction is complete. But I worry, as I often do young mistress, that you have not taken my warning to heart. So I will give you a demonstration since you are still at the age where I remember believing that weapons are always cool." As he counts out her change, his other hand comes up from where he'd been holding it under the counter. It doesn't appear to hold anything, but as he uncurls his fingers, she can see what looks to be a child's toy. It's so small and delicate, a scale model of a cutthroat razor sized for a younger, smaller hand.

"A rather curious item, this. Bought by a doting but unwise father for his son, who could of course not really shave, it was a pointless curiosity. Useless in every respect it was intended for, but utterly accurate to the real thing. By the time the boy had started to grow whiskers he needed a razor he could hold, so it was sold on. Thankfully at least, his father had never put an edge on it. But the man who bought it did, and saw his own use for it. And when he had brought it to me, it was already steeped in history and violence. A tool so small you could hide it practically anywhere, used only for one thing after being abandoned for the use it was made for." Fezziro's voice is dark and dreadful, his words low but projecting far.

"He lied to me about its history and wanted it to remain ever-sharp. I did as he asked and then reported him to the police when I found out its secrets for myself." And indeed they were plain now to anyone. The razor, with its silver handle scales and its tiny, shortened blade radiated enough bloodthirst to put a starved, fledgling vampire to shame. This was a knife that would never touch skin without maiming it, pulling itself into the wound and cutting as deeply as it could to bathe its edge with crimson.

"I can never sell it, and keep it as a reminder of the terrible amount of faith I must have in my customers. What I do demands it. And so take very good care of your purchase, young mistress. And put it only to the best of uses." And with that the razor is tucked safely away behind the counter, and Fezziro's ominous air vanishes as quickly as it came.

He may not make another sale off of this youth after acting the scary magical item seller at her, but she probably didn't have enough disposable income to buy anything else anyway. And he wasn't her minder or teacher, so he was under no obligation to be nice after the business was completed, young girl or not. Better she have a few bad dreams than really find a man who could make that flute turn into a sword and put it to some rash use. Although if Fezziro ever found such a man who would do that kind of job for a child, they would be having Words.

[Cola]

Spoiler

Show

Brun sees herself holding a gun, her most immediate dangerous threat eliminated in a shower of brains. She did it! She killed him! She's glad she's done it, realizing for the first time that there will be consequences, but seeing any of them better than what could have befallen her. She didn't mean to do it, however, but when he woke up, she panicked.

The sound of Smorre's clothes rustling as he raises his hands jolts her back to reality, and she turns to see his action. That, plus Alzim's screams, make the girl drop the gun and raise her own hands, starting to defend herself. "He works for a former kollege of my Vati who deals in sk- I mean slaving and they became feinde I mean enemies before he died and they already tried to kidnap me when my Vati was alive! If I didn't do it then someone else would have, it was notwehr ah ummm I mean self-defense! I might not like how you're trying to shelter me but I would never hurt you Herr Smorre!" She gets out in one breath, realizing she's crying. Post first-kill reaction, something she doesn't realize, so she stops to wonder in confusion just why she's crying, wiping her eyes in some shock.

The sound of sirens can already be heard in the distance. In it are a human cop and an orcish one with purple skin, both dressed in sharp navy blue police uniform, sunglasses hiding their eyes. When the call comes in on the intercom, the orc hurries to answer the call, ensuring that command knows they're on the case and will call for backup if needed. Having police in your pocket means you can get them to watch the recently orphaned child of one of your most resourceful underbosses without her knowledge, even more so when the girl is on her way to following in her father's footsteps despite the inherent danger. A clusterfunk of this scale was inevitable, luckily they're there to clean up the mess.

[the Furry Mob]

There's no sympathy for Brun to be seen in Smorre's face. He simply remains with his hands raised. Once a police siren can be heard less than a minute after the killing shot was taken, and very close by at that, he suspects that a police presence so responsive and close by may not be coincidence...

The law's patrol car pulls up right next to the scene, with a massive human arm held out from its window holding a pistol. The doors fly open and the officers step out. From the passenger seat an enormous human man, well over two metres tall and built as if he could lift cars. Theis strong arm of the law is completed by pilot sunglasses, a walrus moustache, combed-back hair, and a permafrown. Compared to him, the tiny, scrawny purple orc lady emerging from the driver's door looks like a joke. "Everyone, hands into the air!" she yells at Smorrw and Brun, who are already doing exactly that, while waving her pistol around.

Since this is a murder case, they can't just let people go after a bit of on-site questioning. The girl, the cat, and the clerk are all supposed to be handcuffed and transported to the police station for questioning, while a forensics team inclduing psychics is called in. Neither Smorre nor Alzim resist being taken into custody. Neither of them has touched the murder weapon after all, and Smorre's own pistol has a different ammunition type and he has a concealed carry permit.

[Gnrlshrimp]

[Golden Flock Orphanage]

Ithuriel takes a moment to glance at the man, "Don't insult us. You're not here to save anyone. If any of us get out of her alive, you're going straight behind bars."

She doesn't have time to focus on him though. She has to focus on not dying.

Ithuriel keeps steadily walking towards the boy, trying really hard not to show how heavy each footstep is, how tired she feels, how she can feel the pull to just give in to the cold embrace of death. As she walks, she starts loosening the straps on her body armour, shrugging the covering off her wings and freeing up as much space through it as she can. She'd rather not destroy the whole set of riot gear if she can avoid it.

Back on the comms go. "Alright Red, I hope you're nearly here. Mo, I'm about to do something real stupid. There's a bunch of kids in here that need to be got out of this room as quickly as possible. I need the two of you to get them out quickly. Not far, just out of this room. And if you can grab the guy as well, all the better. You're...probably not going to have much time."

Back to the kid. If she's going to have any chance of surviving this, she really needs him to listen, and hopefully stay calm. Ithuriel doesn't particularly rate her odds. Got to put a brave face on it though. Time to do the echo-y angel voice again. "I understand. Whatever's been done to you, it's not something you can let go of yourself. I'm sorry, child. I fear it took us too long to get to you. Don't worry, we'll get your friends to safety." On forwards she goes, every step like walking headfirst into a hurricane, every bit of difficulty hidden behind her calming voice and her glowing aura. "I need you to focus on me. Focus on that power, focus on controlling it. I know you can do this. And I trust you. I trust you not to kill me."

How much does she trust him? Enough to take those last few steps forward to envelope him in her aura - a bubble to contain the runaway divinity and hopefully buy Mo and Red enough time to get the children out. But they'd best be quick. All that divine energy is going to be focused solely on Ithuriel now.

[Leostales]

[QUOTE=bc56;23734515]Sewer Prison

"Simple, I'm the smartest man in the world and nobody realizes it's best to just put me in charge of everything."

[Industrial Park]
"Sure, we'll come with you," Muun says. The reason he yelled was because people tend to underestimate you if you react foolishly when caught.


[House Hunters]
"So do we just dig a hole outside, or should I cast a spell?" she's not used to laying ghosts to rest, she's done quite the opposite actually.

[Arkhosia]

The Docks - Magic Angel Meets Bullet Hell?

The sounds of a confirmed hit and notable damage are all the encourage Blanche needs to continue laying down suppressing bursts one the angel's wounded form, focused as much on forcing the divinely-styled abomination to focus on her and stay unaware of the explosives headed its way as she is on taking the son of a bitch down. She'll aim a series of four three-round bursts where she best guesses the head and torso are behind those wings before being forced to reload.

[Purple Eagle]

Rambling - Brun

"Then our transaction is complete. But I worry, as I often do young mistress, that you have not taken my warning to heart. So I will give you a demonstration since you are still at the age where I remember believing that weapons are always cool." As he counts out her change, his other hand comes up from where he'd been holding it under the counter. It doesn't appear to hold anything, but as he uncurls his fingers, she can see what looks to be a child's toy. It's so small and delicate, a scale model of a cutthroat razor sized for a younger, smaller hand.

"A rather curious item, this. Bought by a doting but unwise father for his son, who could of course not really shave, it was a pointless curiosity. Useless in every respect it was intended for, but utterly accurate to the real thing. By the time the boy had started to grow whiskers he needed a razor he could hold, so it was sold on. Thankfully at least, his father had never put an edge on it. But the man who bought it did, and saw his own use for it. And when he had brought it to me, it was already steeped in history and violence. A tool so small you could hide it practically anywhere, used only for one thing after being abandoned for the use it was made for." Fezziro's voice is dark and dreadful, his words low but projecting far.

"He lied to me about its history and wanted it to remain ever-sharp. I did as he asked and then reported him to the police when I found out its secrets for myself." And indeed they were plain now to anyone. The razor, with its silver handle scales and its tiny, shortened blade radiated enough bloodthirst to put a starved, fledgling vampire to shame. This was a knife that would never touch skin without maiming it, pulling itself into the wound and cutting as deeply as it could to bathe its edge with crimson.

"I can never sell it, and keep it as a reminder of the terrible amount of faith I must have in my customers. What I do demands it. And so take very good care of your purchase, young mistress. And put it only to the best of uses." And with that the razor is tucked safely away behind the counter, and Fezziro's ominous air vanishes as quickly as it came.

He may not make another sale off of this youth after acting the scary magical item seller at her, but she probably didn't have enough disposable income to buy anything else anyway. And he wasn't her minder or teacher, so he was under no obligation to be nice after the business was completed, young girl or not. Better she have a few bad dreams than really find a man who could make that flute turn into a sword and put it to some rash use. Although if Fezziro ever found such a man who would do that kind of job for a child, they would be having Words.

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun's starting to get annoyed by this man's insistence on warning her, and is mentally preparing to retort when the knife comes into view. Her first thought is that the knife would make a good weapon, that is until the wave of bloodlust emanating from it hits her. Being in its presence for an extended period of time, along with Fezirro's tale and the tone he uses to tell it, proves to be rather scary, indeed! And, she doesn't scare easy! It was the knife's lust for something to cut that did it, for sure.

Once he's done with his tale, it's clear that it's had an effect on Brun. She looks down at her purchase, clutching it in her young hands, her lips quivering as she internally chooses whether to tell or not.

She chooses the former. "Herr Fezziro, there's something I should say. I have power to vibrate things, und it works well with sound. If I were to use the musik to defend myself, maybe to explode the knife, or stun someone, what would happen?" Her eyes look up at his, hoping that she can get away with that at least.

[Deathkeeper]

Rambling- Grant

Grant certainly looks enthralled.
”Wow. You sure do have cool things just lying around. I... um. I don’t have trouble sleeping.” In fact he finds himself falling asleep and into dreams far too easily.
”I guess there isn’t much I need right now. Unless you have something to stop faerie bites. The uh, not literal kind.” Grant thinks he’s almost clean, but he’s still paranoid he could relapse. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be free of that. And maybe he shouldn’t be telling strangers about that problem, but he can’t help but feel that someone will have an answer eventually. He just has to make sure he doesn’t trade one burden for another.

[bc56]

Into the Dungeon

Now that he's got a talking head, Tethrik strikes a dramatic pose, holding the skull up high above his head. "Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio. A fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy...

...ah, forget it." He throws the skull against the floor forcefully. No sense in soliloquizing in the middle of a dungeon.

Sewer Prison

Tethrik rolls his eyes at Blackwall's words. Of all the people he gets paid to bust out of jail, it has to be an egomaniac. "Let's get moving. You built this place, which way's the nearest exit?"

[Rebonack]

[Golden Flock Orphanage]

"More than nearly, darling," Red says as the enters the room at a brisk canter. She quickly surveys the situation. There's their bad actor, no doubt. And the rest of the orphans. And...

Ugh.

The power radiating off the child chilling to say the least.

Her eyes fixed on the fellow in the coat, Red lights up her horn with hazel green light. A similar glow surrounds several of the unconscious children and gently lifts them over to her. Without missing a beat she'll canter back out of the room, children in tow. Once she's out in the hall she starts setting down those she's gathered, only for an ear to flick toward the squelching noises.

More trouble, no doubt.

"Lovely," Red huffs. She'll position herself at the door and begin floating kids over to herself, straining the range limit of her telekinesis. She doesn't want to let the kids in the hall out of her sight if she can avoid it.

Helps to keep an eye on Coat Guy, too.

Just in case (more like when) he gets violent.

[House Hunters]

"I'm ordained as a priest," Dusk Glow comments.

Huh.

A tiny horse priest.

Probably not the weirdest thing.

"We need to gather as much of their remains as we can and transport them to a plot of consecrated ground," he explains. "Then I can perform the burial ritual."

"We deal with haunted houses all the time," Alexa adds.

"Aye, hate dealin' wit ghosties," Bjorn grouses. "Not a bit o flesh to sink me axe into."

[Abrajin's Library]

Everyone should have a sampling proboscis!

How else are you supposed to drink something that's way over there?

As the mythic mead is ingested, a wondrous thing takes place!

You see, this is the fabled mead of poetry. And it has that name for a profound reason.

With the mead, a warmness should fill the Scout as new ways of thinking should fill its mind. Music. Verse. Meter. A flare for the dramatic, the ability to inspire, and a skill in weaving mere stories into epics remembered by the ages.

Fancy!

[CosmicHobbit]

Into the Dungeon


The skull is smashed into pieces, rapidly chanting as it is hurled towards the ground. The body keeps on holding onto Lynx's arm, and has started to punch it with one while holding it with the other. Lynx points his cane directly at the ribcage and shouts out an incantation, causing a small explosion to go off in the ribcage. This destroys the skeleton.

"That was...a close...one." Stone grinding against stone is heard as the four other sarcophagi begin opening from the inside.

[Slii Arhem]

Rambling- Grant

Grant certainly looks enthralled.
”Wow. You sure do have cool things just lying around. I... um. I don’t have trouble sleeping.” In fact he finds himself falling asleep and into dreams far too easily.
”I guess there isn’t much I need right now. Unless you have something to stop faerie bites. The uh, not literal kind.” Grant thinks he’s almost clean, but he’s still paranoid he could relapse. He’s not sure if he’ll ever be free of that. And maybe he shouldn’t be telling strangers about that problem, but he can’t help but feel that someone will have an answer eventually. He just has to make sure he doesn’t trade one burden for another.

Rambling - Grant

Fezziro nods in sympathy and digs around under his counter, digging out a heavy leather bag of small objects that clinks when he drops it onto a free space. He undoes the drawstring and opens it, fishing around inside, "All that's really required is cold forged iron made in the old way. I make talismans out of it in my spare time, but they're mostly a hobby these days. Not many refuse when a fey becomes interested in their life anymore." He selects a heavy, square nail without any burrs which must have been hammered into a tapered hole into an anvil to achieve its dull point. The head is rough and rounded, and the whole thing is wound with a leather thong, which Fezziro unravels to reveal it's tied just under the nail's head so it won't slip loose, then secured again with wire.

"Cheap little things, but effective. So long as it touches your skin, a fey cannot without your leave. This one I pulled from the doorjam of a creaking old wreck of a house where it had been used to secure the entrance against brownies and other intruding household spirits. It's had a very long time for my work to sink in, and should be at its most potent now. If you wanted to by the dragon of the night, I could throw this in for free. Otherwise, I'll let it go for." The price Fezziro quotes would get Grant a good meal at Trog's, but it's hard to imagine him getting a genuine magical item for it. There really must not be much demand for protective talismans anymore.

[Rambling - Brun]

Brun's starting to get annoyed by this man's insistence on warning her, and is mentally preparing to retort when the knife comes into view. Her first thought is that the knife would make a good weapon, that is until the wave of bloodlust emanating from it hits her. Being in its presence for an extended period of time, along with Fezirro's tale and the tone he uses to tell it, proves to be rather scary, indeed! And, she doesn't scare easy! It was the knife's lust for something to cut that did it, for sure.

Once he's done with his tale, it's clear that it's had an effect on Brun. She looks down at her purchase, clutching it in her young hands, her lips quivering as she internally chooses whether to tell or not.

She chooses the former. "Herr Fezziro, there's something I should say. I have power to vibrate things, und it works well with sound. If I were to use the musik to defend myself, maybe to explode the knife, or stun someone, what would happen?" Her eyes look up at his, hoping that she can get away with that at least.

Rambling - Brun

Fezziro is silent as he carefully decides how best to put what he wants to say. Finally he speaks, slowly and deliberately, A tool does not care about the reasons for which it was put to use, only the things it is used for mark its surface and its history. But its story does care a bit. Using it defensively or in the defense of others might mitigate the damage done to the object's awareness, but its original purpose of making beauty would still be twisted to the use you put it to. You must be very careful about the shape of your own intentions as well, and accept their consequences. Lashing out in anger even once might give it a taste of what anger can do." Fezziro coughs and realizes he's probably being a bit wordy for a pre-teen.

"In short, young mistress, it would be best to use it for music, not violence unless you truly have no other choice. If you teach a dog only to bite, don't be surprised if it bites you next." And he has to hope that will be enough.